Wednesday, 31 July 2013

We get back to Ebermannstadt at a reasonable time. Reasonable enough for it to be reasonable to sample more of the town's delights. We did Schwanenbräu yesterday. Where today?

"What about our hotel's beer garden?"

"Where's that, dad?"

"Not far." That gets a look. Andrew is very cynical for one so young. It really isn't far. "It really isn't far."

On the very short walk, we pass Brauerei Sonne. It looks reassuringly operational. The brewery tap, Gasthaus Sonne, is resolutely shut because of "Betriebswechsel". I hope it does reopen. It looks rather sad there on the corner of the square, dessicated plants behind its windows.

Gasthof Zur Post's beer garden is low key. Very low key. There appear
to be no staff when we arrive. Turns out they've cleverly disguised
themselves as customers by sitting chatting with other guests.

There
are two basic types of beer garden in Fanconia. There's the Bierkeller,
where row upon row up tables and benches are arranged under a forest of
towering trees. Then there are ones like, er, someone's back garden.
Where the trees are of the fruit kind and more modest in size. This is
the latter type.

A group of children play football in the garden.
More guests arrive leaving their bikes leant up against a fence. Andrew
is shocked. No-one locks their bikes. He's never seen such behaviour
before.

"Fancy a new mountain bike, Andrew?"

We order food
and watch swallows dart between the gables, banking and diving like
dogfighting fighters. Sadly, Zur Post sells Mönchshof beers. I get a
Kellerbier. It looks like this:

and tastes like beer. Things rather more important than beer are occupying me.

"Ah
. . . there's metal in my food . . " Andrew fishes a small piece of
metal from his mouth. Part of his braces. Whoops. Here carefully eats
around the crust of his sandwich, which he clearly holds to blame.

We linger long but consume little. Chatting and letting the evening flow
slowly by. When the swallows move on at dusk, it's time for us to
depart, too.

Tuesday, 30 July 2013

I earmarked our second day for a trip to Bamberg. Lovely town and not far. Just a short hop and jump on the train.

We hit town a bit before eleven. It's already pretty hot.

"Where are we going, dad?"

"Fässla."

"Is it far?"

"Half way into town. I've got it all worked out."

Except that I haven't counted on one thing: the popularity of Fässla for early shopping*. There isn't a seat to be had.

"Let's try Spezial."

"Where's that, dad?"

"There," I say, pointing directly over the road. "I told you everything was under control."

Luckily, Spezial doesn't prove me a liar. We can't get a seat outside, but plenty are free inside.

Soon we both had one of these:

"Is this smoky bacon flavoured beer?"

"Yes, how did you guess?"

"From the smoky bacon smell. And the word Rauchbier on the glass. I can read German, you know."

A young Japanese woman enters. The barman pours her a Rauchbier wothout even asking. Most of the other customers are pensioners. Some must have been pensioners for decades. They eat and drink at a slow, steady pace.

Noticing the Stammtisch, I tell Andrew of a game Harry invented: thinking up bad advice for tourists. Like saying that it's polite to stare at people in British pubs.

"I'd say that strangers are expected to sit at the Stammtisch and if it's full you can ask one of the locals to get up to make room for you."

It takes a while to get through the beer. I clearly don't have my drinking head on. When we've finally finished it off we head for our next appointment. With more smoke.

Town is packed. There's some sort of event going on and every 50 metres down the main drag there's a magician performing. Add to that a street market and hordes of tourists and you'll have some idea of the degree of packedness.

"Daaad, what are all these people doing here?" Andrew shares my dislike of crowds.

"Getting in our bloody way."

The hordes reach a crescendo around the, admittedly highly scenic, old town hall bridge. I'd like to take some snaps, but really don't want to look like all the other muppets.

The baroque end of town is almost as full, but fortunately Schlenkerla isn't far. Amazingly we find free seats in the courtyard. Result.

"Do they sell that bacon beer here, dad?"

"Yes."

"I'll have an Apfelschorle."

We've arrived in that funny hole in Schlenkerla's menu - too late (after noon) for the breakfast treats, too early (before 14:30) for the afternoon sarnies. It leaves a fairly limited choice.

"Oh, look, they've got Schäuferle."

"What's that, dad?"

"Like a healthfood version of Schweinshaxe."

"Be serious, dad."

"It is, sort of."

I explain how it's made. I'm an expert, having watched a German programme on Franconian Brauhaus cooking. Andrew looks remarkably unimpressed.

"I'll stick with sausage, if that's OK with you, dad."

It's pretty raucous outside. Large groups of middle-aged Germans are having fun. One bunch of women are smoking their post-prandial fags when one of a gang of men just passing through the courtyard starts picking at their leftovers. The women's response is remarkably good natured and everyone finds it hugely amusing. They just don't know how to get into fights, these Germans.

"Is there anywhere else you want to go, dad?" At least that's what I heard. I think Andrew might have said: "Do you plan dragging me anywhere else?"

"Klosterbräu. It's just around the corner."

As we walk there, I'm reminded how crap I am at navigating my way around Bamberg. I consult my map several times during the 100 metre trek.

"I think it's just around here."

"That's a dead end, dad."

"Ah, right . . . must be this way."

As we stumble around, I try to explain that Klosterbräu used to belong to the Fürstbischof of Bamberg.

"I guess Fürstbischof wasn't an heriditary job, then." Andrew quips.

At Klosterbräu there's a sign saying that the river beer garden is open. Is that new? I can't rememeber ever noticing a garden at the back of the brewery. It's rather pleasnt, placed in the yard between the brewery and the river. We find some shade and order. I get a Kellerbier. I don't remember seeing that before, either. It comes in this rather attractive Stein:

I hope you're not expecting any description of the beer contained within it. Wet and pleasantly cool. A bitter taste, too. I think it might come from hops, but wouldn't swear on it.

Despite being a bit off the beaten track, several large groups arrive. Is no-one in parties of less than eight today?

"Can we walk back a different way?" I told you Andrew dislikes crowds almost as much as me. We work out a route skirting the centre.

Back at the station, there's time to collect a beer and impulse schnapps for the train journey.

Monday, 29 July 2013

Our ICE to Nuremburg arrives in 10 minutes late. That gets Andrew a-fretting. We don't have many minutes to make our connection to Forchheim. Fewer than 10.

I've not bothered reserving seats. As they were 3 euros cheaper than second class, we have first-class tickets. Ah, the vagaries of advanced-booking offers. My assumption that there will be plenty of spare seats is proved right.

"I told you there would be loads of places, Andrew. That's saved me the price of a couple of beers."

"Daaaaad, that's where you're meant to break the window in an emergency."

"No it's not, it's the sign for wifi."

"Then why is there a hammer next to it?"

"A coincidence."

"And instructions to hit the dot with the hammer?"

"You may have a point."

To Andrew's relief, they've held back our connection in Nuremberg. And in Forchheim. Before we know it, we're bumbling along the single-track line to Ebermannstadt, our destination for the day. The train is surprisingly full.

I tried to get us rooms here, one of Ebermannstadt's two breweries:

But it was booked up. Instead, we're staying at Gasthof zur Post just over the street.

Our rooms are boiling. Facing the afternoon sun, curtains wide open, has turned them into a sweat box inside a sauna encased in a furnace. Hot. I strain to shut out the sun, but the curtains aren't wide enough.

"That's really stupid, having curtains that don't cover the windows. How are you supposed to block out the sun?"

One of the reasons I chose Ebermannstadt as our base was the presence of a Rewe supermarket close by.

"Let's get ourselves some drinks."

Andrew gives me a look. "I mean water or that apple stuff. Honestly." He doesn't give up on the look.

On the way to Rewe, Andrew notices something. Shutters. All the houses have shutters.

They must have only recentlly swapped to Tegernsee beer, as the photo on the website has the pub branded Hacker-Pschorr.

Where was I? In a pub drinking Tegernsee Helles, that's it. We don't stay long. Too damn hot. And this is just a short walk away:

What a difference trees make. It feels so much cooler now we've nestled ourselves under an enormous oak tree.

We entered a different way from the entrances I used the last couple of times. Never realised part of the garden was waiter service. We scuttle through that to the self-service section. I don't want to waste time waiting for a waiter. We only have two hours or so.

"Do you want a beer, Andrew?"

"Not if that's the smallest size they come in. " He says, pointing at one of these:

He has a point.

"Apfelschorle it is then."

There are those that accuse Augustiner beer of blandness. They're talking out of their arse. Subtlety and blandness aren't the same. That misunderstanding is behind the undervaluing of German beer by many geeks. It's not in their face enough. More fool them. Because they miss out on the joy of chomping great lumps out of a litre of Edelstoff. The perfect refreshment for a sweaty dad.

"This is just perfect, Andrew."

"I can see how much you're enjoying it from how little's left."

I used to think a litre was too much. I'm starting to change my mind.

"Time for another - do you want another of those apple thingies?

"I'm OK, dad. Get yourself another one, though."

I've brought him up well.

My meatballs are rather disappointing. Too salty, as is the potato salad.

"Probably not such a bad idea, eating more salt in weather like this, Andrew."

"You've always got an excuse for everything."

He's not far wrong, there. Back at the Bahnhof all bagged-up, I head for a kiosk.

"What do you want to buy dad? We've already eaten."

"Something to cool me down on the train." I buy the first impulse schnapps of the trip.

Saturday, 27 July 2013

I hate rushing. Especially to catch planes or trains. Not good for the heart, especially in the heat. And I'm quite keen on making it through another year thrombie-free. I've sort of promised it to myself.

That's why the train I booked to whisk us up to Franconia left several hours after our flight was due to land. The Hauptbahnhof is an irritatingly long ride from the airport. Up to 40-odd minutes, depending on which S-Bahn you take.

When we get to the station we have the best part of three hours before our train. Though there is an upside. And a big one at that. Plenty of time to nip to the Augustiner Keller, handily only a short walk away. In a jiffy our bags are dumped and we're off in search of beer. Beer served as god intended, straight from the wood.

At least that was the plan. We get diverted.

I have a thing about pubs. I'm quite good at spotting and remembering them. I blame all those years assembling pub guides. That and being a bit of a pisshead. Emerging from the station onto Arnulfstrasse, I spot this:

"Oh, look, Andrew, there's a Hofbrauerei Tegernsee pub. They do a lovely Spezial."

"I guess that means you want to go in."

"Spezial is one of those styles the beer geeks haven't noticed, it's between . . . .

"It's OK dad, we can go in there if you want."

". . . . a Vollbier and a Märzen . . . .

"Daaaad, I said yes."

" . . . but not quite . . . . what? Great. Brilliant."

It's a bit posh inside. And hot. And Nearly empty. A waiter burls up, seemingly impervious to the heat.

"What do you have on draught?"

The reply disappoints: "Helles, Pils and Weizen."

Damn. No Spezial. Helles it was. For us both.

This is what it looks like:

Though obviously not quite as blurry (it is the first beer of the day, well unless you count that can of Heinken I had at Schiphol, though that was purely for cooling purposes). Not quite enough light to get a sharp snap.

If I were taking notes, I'd be able to give you some sort of crappy description. But I'm not, because I'm on holiday with my son.

"I hope you're not going to start writing everything down, dad, like you did when you dragged me and Lexie around Holland."

Friday, 26 July 2013

I do a fair bit of travelling to various destinations. It's hard getting around everywhere I'd like to. But there's one place I never miss: Franconia. I go there every year. It's a sort of pilgrimage.

A chance to drink simple, tasty beer in simple, cosy places, far away from the clamour of the city. About the only time I get anywhere near the countryside.

This year, for the first time, I went with my son. Though that's not quite true. We went to Annafest 10 or 11 years ago. This year was the first time he was of legal drinking age. That makes all the difference.

It wasn't a particularly long or complicated trip. Four nights in Ebermannstadt and one in Munich. A day at Annafest, one in Bamberg and another at the Kellers of Buttenheim. A return to places I love, beers that quench and a peace to be cherished.

I love Lager. Annually renewing that love has become part of the rhythm of my life. It's not about drinking the rarest, oddest or strongest beer. But about reconnecting with the gloriously simple Franconian approach to beer. Where drinking a beer with your breakfast evokes no condemnatory glances. Where the beer isn't trying to show off and the food not straining to be clever and quirky and new. Where there's time to just sit and enjoy life, watching it meander past like lazy brook.

Thursday, 25 July 2013

When I was in London a few weeks ago I did my best to complete the set of Whitbread Ale logs. For whatever reason, some of the volumes never appeared, even though I'm pretty sure I ordered them. Luckily, as most cover July 1st to June 30th the following year, I'm pretty sure that I have every year covered.

Wondering why I go no earlier than 1836? It's because that's the year Whitbread started brewing Ale. Before that, they'd been a 100% Porter brewery. All the big London Porter brewers seem to have taken up Ale brewing in the 1830's. It's thought that it was in response to the new category of pub, called beer houses, which weren't allowed to sell spirits. The demand for Ale grew as a result of their creation and the Porter brewers didn't want to miss out.

To modern eyes, these look a pretty off set of Milds. In fact the only one that even vaguely resembles a modern Mild is the Table Beer. That's what they gave to children. Whitbread's weakest proper Mild, X Ale, was around 6% ABV and had a gravity well over 1070º. The top of the range XXXX Ale was a real monster, weighing in at over 1100º and around 10% ABV. All would count as strong today. Even for Americans.

There's a curious phenomenon here. One I've spotted before amongst Scottish beers. There's very little difference in the FG of X Ale and XXXX Ale. Which means, perversely, that the degree of attenuation increases as the gravity of the beer increases. You'd expect it to be the other way around. There's no way that can be accidental. It looks to me as if they were aiming for a finished beer with a good deal of body. An FG in the 1030's gave them that, so that's what they aimed for.

The hopping is, as you'd expect for the early 19th century, pretty robust, ranging from 2 lbs per barrel for X Ale, to 4 to 5 lbs for XXXX Ale. With the high terminal gravities, you'd need a good dose of hops to balance out all the malty sweetness.

I would have listed the grists, but as easy for me to tell you: all 100% pale malt. Nice and simple, like all beers of the period.

Next we'll be looking at Whitbread's Stock Ales.

Whitbread Mild Ales in the 1830's

Year

Beer

Style

OG

FG

ABV

App.
Atten-uation

lbs
hops/ qtr

hops
lb/brl

boil
time (hours)

boil
time (hours)

boil
time (hours)

Pitch
temp

max.
fermentation temp

length
of fermentation (days)

1837

TB

Table

1034.6

8.02

1.09

1.5

2

3

º

º

1836

X

Mild

1077.0

1029.4

6.30

61.87%

6.55

2.33

2

2

3

63.5º

74.5º

4 + 2

1837

X

Mild

1075.9

1031.6

5.86

58.39%

7.07

2.35

2

2

?

63º

73º

5 + 1

1838

X

Mild

1077.8

1033.2

5.90

57.30%

7.27

2.51

2

2

3.17

64º

74.5º

5 + 2

1839

X

Mild

1078.7

1032.7

6.08

58.45%

6.02

2.03

2.17

2

3

64º

72º

4 + 3

1838

XL

Mild

1081.7

6.30

2.25

1.67

2

3

64º

74.5º

4 + 3

1839

XL

Mild

1082.3

1031.6

6.71

61.62%

6.02

2.13

2.17

2

3

63º

74º

4 + 3

1837

XX

Mild

1091.4

1035.5

7.40

61.21%

6.05

2.35

2

2

3

59º

74º

6 + 2

1838

XX

Mild

1091.7

1034.6

7.55

62.24%

7.33

2.83

2

2

3

61º

72.5º

5 + 1

1839

XX

Mild

1091.1

1034.3

7.51

62.31%

6.09

2.40

2

2

3

60º

75.5º

4 + 3

1836

XXX

Mild

1102.8

1036.0

8.83

64.96%

6.09

2.80

2

2

3.5

62.5º

74.5º

5 + 4

1837

XXX

Mild

1102.2

1035.5

8.83

65.31%

7.07

3.16

2

2

?

61º

73.5º

5 + 1

1838

XXX

Mild

1101.9

1041.0

8.06

59.78%

6.76

3.08

2

2

3

60º

81º

4 + 2

1839

XXX

Mild

1102.2

1036.0

8.76

64.77%

6.02

2.62

1.67

2

3

60º

76º

5 + 2

1836

XXXX

Mild

1114.7

1039.3

9.97

65.70%

7.00

3.64

2.17

2

2.5

60º

73º

7 + 1

1837

XXXX

Mild

1114.1

1037.4

10.15

67.23%

7.31

3.67

2

2

2.5

60º

72º

4 + 2

1839

XXXX

Mild

1111.4

1042.9

9.05

61.44%

6.02

2.88

2.17

2

3

60º

71º

8 + 2

Source:

Whitbread brewing records held at the London Metropolitan
Archives, document numbers LMA/4453/D/01/001, LMA/4453/D/01/002 and
LMA/4453/D/01/003 .

Wednesday, 24 July 2013

More from "Report of the Commissioners Appointed to Inquire Into the Sanitary State of the Army in India". This time looking at a specific type of beer, Porter.

You may recall me banging on at every available opportunity about Porter being imported into India in greater quantities than IPA. Here's confirmation than drinking Porter was a regular part of the life of an ordinary soldier in India.

Soldiers were issued with a daily ration of Porter in some units:

Lieut.-Colonel Gall—, The usual beverages are spirits, porter, and arrack. . . . The usual issue is one quart of porter and one dram; the latter may be exchanged. Porter is cheapened to encourage its use in lieu of spirits.
"Report of the Commissioners Appointed to Inquire Into the Sanitary State of the Army in India", 1863, page 225.

A quart was reasonably generous, given the strength of it (between 5.5% and 6% ABV):

India Porter and Stout

Year

Brewer

Beer

Style

OG

FG

ABV

App. Atten-uation

lbs hops/ qtr

hops lb/brl

boil time (hours)

boil time (hours)

boil time (hours)

Pitch temp

max.
fermen-tation temp

1855

Barclay Perkins

EI

Porter

1061.5

1016.0

6.02

73.98%

21.01

4.47

66º

81º

1856

Barclay Perkins

EI

Porter

1061.8

1016.0

6.06

74.10%

21.03

4.57

66º

81º

1856

Barclay Perkins

EI

Porter

1060.9

1016.0

5.95

73.74%

17.05

4.68

65º

80º

1853

Whitbread

Expt. India Beer

Porter

1062.3

1018.3

5.83

70.67%

20.23

5.58

1.5

1.5

2

64º

1853

Whitbread

Contract India Beer

Porter

1059.6

1018.6

5.42

68.84%

20.31

4.95

1.5

1.5

2

64º

1854

Whitbread

Contract India Beer

Porter

1057.9

1015.0

5.68

74.16%

19.62

4.64

1.5

1.5

2

64º

1854

Whitbread

Contract India Beer

Porter

1058.4

1014.7

5.79

74.88%

19.58

4.57

1.5

1.5

2

64º

1854

Whitbread

Expt. India Beer

Stout

1072.0

1022.2

6.60

69.23%

19.33

6.42

1.75

1.5

2

64º

1854

Whitbread

Expt. India Beer

Stout

1071.2

1019.9

6.78

71.98%

18.90

5.93

1.5

1.5

2

64º

Sources:

Barclay Perkins
brewing record held at the London Metropolitan Archives, document number
ACC/2305/1/542.

Whitbread brewing records held at the London Metropolitan
Archives, document numbers LMA/4453/D/09/047 and LMA/4453/D/09/048 .

Note that Whitbread also brewed a Stout for export to India.

Here's more evidence of soldiers receiving Porter as part of their rations:

Brig.-Gen. Russell—, . . . . Every effort was made to draw men from the canteen, which was kept as far as possible from the place of amusement. The men preferred going thither and getting their porter fresh to having it brought to them at dinner.
"Report of the Commissioners Appointed to Inquire Into the Sanitary State of the Army in India", 1863, page 227.

Finally, something that flies in the face of all received wisdom about India and beer:

Dr. Dempster—, . . . . Advises pure water or slightly acidulated drinks only in general, but in some cases pale ale, i.e., for weak persons after several years' residence. . . . . It is difficult to keep ale imported from England. Porter keeps better.
"Report of the Commissioners Appointed to Inquire Into the Sanitary State of the Army in India", 1863, page 229.

Tuesday, 23 July 2013

As thromised, part two of my look at British hopping rates in the 20th century.

You must tell me, by the way, if all these numbers start getting too tedious. It won't make me stop posting them, but it may make you feel better.

That hopping rates fell during WW II is no surprise. After more than a third of the new crop was destroyed by an air raid on 29th December, 1940, the government ordered brewers to cut their hopping rates.

"Consumption of hops by brewers was cut in June, 1941, under instructions of the Ministry of Food, by 20%. of the rate used per standard barrel. This cut ceased to operate in 1947"1955 Brewers' Almanack, page 64.

The fall between 1940 and 1942 is indeed around 20%. And, like magic, hopping rates started to climb again in 1948. It's a good illustration of how government directly interfered in the technical aspects of brewing. Many features of beer and pubs have been fiddled with in this way. To a greater extent than in most other industries.

The rise in hopping rates didn't last long. In 1951 they started to decline again and that trend continued until the end of the table. What's odd about the fall between 1960 and 1968, is that there was a swing away from Mild to Bitter in that period. You would expect the hopping rate to have increased.

UK hopping rates 1940 - 1968

year

bulk barrels

hops

lbs hops per barrel

Average OG

oz. hops per
gravity point

1940

24,925,704

265,512

1.19

1040.62

0.47

1941

28,170,582

251,354

1.00

1038.51

0.42

1942

29,584,656

223,007

0.84

1035.53

0.38

1943

29,811,321

231,589

0.87

1034.34

0.41

1944

31,380,684

243,900

0.87

1034.63

0.40

1945

31,990,334

244,822

0.86

1034.54

0.40

1946

31,066,950

226,197

0.82

1034.72

0.38

1947

30,103,180

217,759

0.81

1032.59

0.40

1948

28,813,725

231,470

0.90

1032.66

0.44

1949

26,744,457

233,158

0.98

1033.43

0.47

1950

25,339,062

232,979

1.03

1033.88

0.49

1951

24,870,564

229,106

1.03

1036.99

0.45

1952

25,285,589

228,512

1.01

1037.07

0.44

1953

24,789,130

225,569

1.02

1036.87

0.44

1954

24,153,387

216,841

1.01

1036.97

0.44

1955

24,324,623

217,716

1.00

1037.13

0.43

1956

24,187,096

218,820

1.01

1037.22

0.44

1957

24,839,755

215,114

0.97

1037.42

0.41

1958

24,129,462

208,870

0.97

1037.48

0.41

1959

25,023,044

216,037

0.97

1037.52

0.41

1960

26,313,796

226,371

0.96

1037.25

0.41

1961

27,600,860

234,611

0.95

1037.41

0.41

1962

27,736,049

226,437

0.91

1037.70

0.39

1963

27,942,561

226,565

0.91

1037.70

0.39

1964

29,485,128

237,356

0.90

1037.66

0.38

1965

29,579,855

236,424

0.90

1037.67

0.38

1966

30,178,056

232,119

0.86

1037.63

0.37

1967

30,751,420

221,793

0.81

1037.46

0.35

1968

30,763,106

200,254

0.73

1037.36

0.31

Sources:

Brewers' Almanack 1955, p. 50

Brewers' Almanack 1955, page 62

Brewers' Almanack 1962, p. 48

Brewers' Almanack 1971, p. 45

1971 Brewers'Almanack, page 54

I must see if I can find the figures for after 1968. I must have them somewhere.

Monday, 22 July 2013

One thing the British were really good at in the 19th century was commissioning reports. Reports into all sorts of things, most not of much interest to me. Occasionally some aspect of the brewing industry was the focus. More often beer is just mentioned in passing.

"Report of the Commissioners Appointed to Inquire Into the Sanitary State of the Army in India" belongs in the latter category. Various military officers seerving in India were asked about all sorts of things pertaining to sanitation and the well-being of the soldiers. One topic was the canteens where soldiers ate and drank. The answers reveal much about the drinking habits of the ordinary soldiers.

One recurring theme is the harmful effect of spirits and the preference for having the men drink beer instead. It seems spirits were only sold in canteens to stop the men buying them outside their barracks.

Judging by the replies, they had been specifically asked about locally brewed beer. The topic comes up several times, though opinions were split as to its quality.

This isn't exactly a ringing endorsement:

"Sir R. Martin— . . . Malt liquor would be preferable, and it has been brewed at some of the hill stations with tolerable success."
"Report of the Commissioners Appointed to Inquire Into the Sanitary State of the Army in India", 1863, page 224.

Some inisited that Indian-brewed beer would not keep:

"Colonel Swatman—, . . . Beer brewed in India will not keep."
"Report of the Commissioners Appointed to Inquire Into the Sanitary State of the Army in India", 1863, page 224.

"Sir John Lawrence—, . . . . Thinks very fair beer is brewed in the
hills, but that it would not keep any length of time in the plains."
"Report of the Commissioners Appointed to Inquire Into the Sanitary State of the Army in India", 1863, page 226.

While others reported it to have excellent keeping properties:

"Dr. Dempster—, . . . . Had examined and tested beer made in the hills
at Mussourie by Mr. Mackinnon. It was much liked and in good demand.
Pronounced by special committee to be good and wholesome. Some put aside
in bottle through the hot season was afterwards found perfectly good
and quite transparent, after standing in the glass 12 hours."
"Report of the Commissioners Appointed to Inquire Into the Sanitary State of the Army in India", 1863, page 229.

The men weren't that keen on beer brewed in India and preferred that imported from Britain:

"Col. Greathed—, . . . . The English beer is better than that brewed at Mussourie."
"Report of the Commissioners Appointed to Inquire Into the Sanitary State of the Army in India", 1863, page 226.

Though not always with good reason:

Colonel Campbell—, . . . . . Beer was brewed at Meerut by an officer to great advantage; but as a matter of pride this was not approved, and it was discontinued. The beer was not liked so well as the English.
"Report of the Commissioners Appointed to Inquire Into the Sanitary State of the Army in India", 1863, page 227.

One reason some in authority were keen in locally-brewed beer waas that it was cheaper and would save them money:

Dr. R. D. Thompson— . . . .Beer is sent from England. There are breweries at Kussowlie and Mussourie, but the men do not like the beer so well as English, though it is cheaper. Beer is sold to the soldier by the Government at a loss amounting probably last year to 25 lacs of rupees (or £300,000)
"Report of the Commissioners Appointed to Inquire Into the Sanitary State of the Army in India", 1863, page 228.

Dr. McCosh—, . . . Very good ale is brewed in the hills, and
the whole army might thus be supplied if a heavy contract were insured
by Government, by which a quarter of a million annually might be saved
on ale alone.
"Report of the Commissioners Appointed to Inquire Into the Sanitary State of the Army in India", 1863, page 226

The reason for the savings was that beer was sold at a loss to troops to try to encourage them to drink beer instead of spirits.

This short report about experiments in brewing in India caught my eye:

Lieut.-Col. Ouchterlony—, gives results of his experiments in brewing on the Neilgherries, the beer having been approved by those who tried it; so that the trade would pay professional brewers if supported by Government. Adds return of loss by getting beer from England.
"Report of the Commissioners Appointed to Inquire Into the Sanitary State of the Army in India", 1863, page 229.

A quick search reveals that Lieut.-Col. Ouchterlony wrote at length about his attempts at brewing. We'll be returning to that soon.

Sunday, 21 July 2013

I told you I had more hop numbers. I just had to rummage around in the nether regions of my spreadsheets to find them.

The title is pretty self-explanatory. I've taken the figures I have for beer production and hop usage, nailed them loosely together and calculated the average quantity of hops used per barrel of beer produced. And I've thrown in the OG and ounces of hops per gravity point so the effect of gravity changes can be removed.

I think it's a pretty nifty table. Especially as it tells me something unexpected. Or rather confirms soemthing I was reluctant to believe. Remember those hop numbers from Barth Reports? There was one set that showed average hopping rates for various countries. I was sceptical of the UK ones, because it showed the hopping rate after WW I as higher than before it. That couldn't possibly be true, could it? Average OG had declined abourt 25% so logic would demand that the hopping rate had undergone a similar fall. Not true at all.

What makes that increase in hopping even more surprising, is that the price of hops had more than quadruples between 1914 and 1920:

Price of English hops per cwt.

£ s. d.

1914

4 3 9

1916

6 14 0

1918

18 15 0

1920

19 10 0

Source:

Brewers' Almanack 1955, page 63.

Here's another way of looking at it:

Fall in OG and hopping 1914 - 1920

1914

1920

% fall

Average OG

1052.15

1039.41

24.43%

Average hops
per barrel

1.73

1.62

6.36%

Sources:

Brewers' Almanack 1928, p. 110

1914: 1953 Brewers' Almanack 1955, page 62

OG fell 24% but the hopping rate only by 6.%. I'd like to explain it, but have absolutely no idea why this happened.

Surprisingly, the hopping rate per gravity point stayed at close to the 1914 level for most of the 1930's. Not at all what I would have expected.